Unkillable
by The ShadowEye
Summary: A rose by another name is still a rose, and someone who is unkillable is still unkillable even when you call him stubborn, thick-skulled, or just plain lucky. One-shot.


**Hello all!**

 **So, apparently** ** _killable_** **and therefore** ** _unkillable_** **are not words. They do still make good titles, though, so that's what I'm going with.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin. All rights to respective owners. Most OC names were given by my father, so credit to him too. Because as good of a writer I (think I) am, I cannot come up with names for the life of me.**

 **Enjoy :)**

If there was one name the family never uttered, it was Brian.  
Sir Brian, specifically.  
Everyone in the household knew that _that name_ was forbidden. As were the events of _that night_. Because it was a miracle they weren't under suspicion yet. But the thing that would have them killed - the curse, or blessing, or whatever you would call it - was what was protecting them.  
Protecting him.  
And if there was one thing any parent would want, it was protection for their child.  
Of course, if you asked anybody else, they would never think it was magic keeping Sir Leon alive. No, they always came up with another reason, another word, to describe it.

 _Eight years old._  
Nobility was Uther's excuse.  
Because Leon's household was honorable, and it made so much more sense that a noble child like Leon would be enchanted into being friends with the sorcerer than actually be caught around the magical child. Because his parents taught him better than that, right?  
So when the rest of his friends were drowned, Leon was spared. Spared because he would never associate with magic of his own free will. Even when he pleaded for his friends' lives, Uther just became more convinced. A noble wouldn't be calling commoners his friends after all.

 _Ten years old_  
"He must have a tremendously thick skull" was Gauis's conclusion when Leon survived falling on his head from one of the higher trees onto a sharp rock.  
"Otherwise, he should not have survived," Gauis concluded.  
"It runs in the family." His mother, Lady Dahlia, teased. "His father is just as hard headed." His father, Sir Carson, grunted in reply. If either of them knew different, they didn't show it.

 _Twelve years old_  
Lucky said Sir Douglas when he reported the training incident to Uther.  
Or maybe I'm lucky, Douglas considered. If Leon had been killed, the king would have his head. Uther already acted like the kid was his best knight.  
Or maybe Garren, the idiot who struck him, wasn't as tough as he acted.

 _Fifteen years old_  
Protected, they said. Protected by his parents when the assassin, sent by a rival lord, shot his father dead and shot the maid that waited on his mother dead and nearly shot his mother, too. Protected by the love of his parents.  
Which, in a way, was true.  
The offending lord said he had proof the household was consorting with sorcerers, but Uther was too mad to be convinced. Almost as if something was keeping his mind from considering it.

 _Eighteen years old_  
Invisible, Sir Bedivere recounted.  
"The bandits just passed right over him." He stated, eyes wide. He had woken merely moments ago, and was clearly shaken. "Like he was invisible."  
Sir Leon wasn't proud of it, hiding from the bandits that had taken out the entire patrol. But if he hadn't, Sir Bedivere, one of his closest friends, would still be bleeding out on the forest floor.  
"A much more impressive account than what Sir Leon gave," Gauis noted. "You would do good not to underestimate yourself."  
"I hid." Sir Leon replied. "That's not much to be proud of."

 _Twenty years old_  
Stubbornness was Prince Arthur's diagnosis, walking back from the young prince's first patrol with blood-stained chain mail.  
"If you don't mind me saying, sire," Sir Leon replied. "You are more stubborn than I am."

 _Twenty-three years old_  
"You are very quick," Gwen commented as she helped the wounded into the castle. Sir Leon flashed her a smile. Gwen looked like he felt. The dragon attack was hard on all of them, and if it wasn't for the dedication of servants like Gwen and Merlin, it would be impossible for the knights to stand up to them.  
"That's all of Prince Arthur's training kicking in." He replied.  
"Or you could take the compliment from the pretty girl." Sir Bedivere, who was leaning on Leon for support, added. Gwen blushed.  
"Arthur is lucky to have such reliable knights fighting alongside him." Gwen commented.  
"He has more than his knights fighting with him."

 _Twenty-four years old_  
It was miracle this time. A flat out miracle.  
Nothing else could explain the amount of luck that went into surviving this.  
The Cup of Life, the actual _Cup of Life_ , had made an appearance for the first time in ages to save his life. And why were druids of all people saving the life of a knight of Camelot?  
Sir Leon only knew two things this time. He was very confused and he was very thankful.

 _Twenty-six years old_  
"You know, you might be the most stubborn of us all," Sir Gwain stated, babbling on despite his limp. It was his and Sir Lancelot's first patrol, and in a gamble to find more information about Morgana's location, the patrol had ran into some small problems. Only four of them managed to escaped, and they were all injured.  
Of course, Gwain only had a broken leg, Lancelot two black eyes and a bleeding nose, and Bedivere had a nasty cut on his arm. Otherwise they were fine. Leon, on the other hand, had taken not one but two stabs to the stomach and really should be lying in the ground dead with the rest of the knights.  
"I don't know, you're close yourself," Lancelot stated.  
"Ooh, is that the noble Sir Lancelot taking part in childish bickering?" Sir Gwain asked, feigning surprised. Earlier in the patrol, Lancelot had told Bedivere and Gwain off for "bickering like children". Both of them were still sour about that, despite the fight they had just survived.  
Sir Leon chuckled, then decided to stop because that hurt his should-be-fatal stomach wounds.

 _Twenty-seven years old_  
Reliable was an adjective he could live with.  
Gwen had her head in her hands, rubbing her knuckles over her eyes.  
They had won the battle, but at what cost? Bedivere, Leon's lifelong friend and ally, was dead. Gwain and Percival had run off.  
No word from Arthur. Not since Gauis came back.  
The dragon had nearly killed Leon. He should be burnt to a crisp, but Merlin - yes, he knew it was Merlin, who else could it be? - had shown up just in time.  
But time enough for Arthur?  
He was worried - of course he was worried - but Gwen had just thanked him for his reliability and right now he knew she needed reliable. Yes, that was his king and friend out there, but it was also her husband and partner and the love of her life and right now, Gwen needed someone and Gauis was busy with injured and family members and worrying about his ward and Merlin was currently protecting the source of their troubles and Perceval and Gwain had stupidly ran off after Morgana and it wasn't like her maid understood what was going on in Gwen's head right now like Leon did.  
So reliable was fine with him.

 _Twenty-eight years old_  
Honestly, Leon didn't think he had ever been called stupid so passionately.  
Then again, it wasn't like he was thinking straight, with a crossbow bolt in his stomach.  
Merlin, Gwen, Percival, and Gauis were crowded around him, Gauis and Merlin doing their best to keep him alive.  
"That was _so stupid_." Merlin informed him. "A crossbow bolt wouldn't kill me, but it definitely could kill you." By now, Leon was starting to think differently, but maybe the council meeting where they were discussing magic and someone had just tried to assassinate Merlin - Merlin, of all people - was not the best place to discussing being possibly magically protected.  
"Instinct." Leon explained. "Just heal me quickly please."  
Not fatal didn't mean not painful after all.

 _Thirty years old_  
 _Cursed_ , Leon thought, watching the funeral pyre for Percival. _I must be cursed_.  
Gwen was doing her best to appear strong. Merlin just looked tired. Leon did his best to stand stoic, despite his own injuries. Another patrol only he survived. Another friend perished. Another funeral.  
Slowly observers peeled away, and it was the three of them, standing there.  
"Thank you." Gwen said. She choked back a sob. "Thank you both for being by my side through all of this.

 _Thirty-two years old_  
"I think you might have a protection spell on you that prevents you from dying." Merlin stated, after healing another injury that should have been instant death.  
"I've started thinking that myself." Leon admitted.  
"Do you know how?" Merlin asked, wiping his hands on a towel.  
"I'm not sure, but there's a... not a story exactly, but there was a knight before the purge that practiced magic. Sir Brian I believe is his name. Some say my parents hid him for a time. He was well known for blessing those that helped him. That's all I've managed to piece together."  
"That would be powerful magic." Merlin answered.  
"And it's done me a lot of good."  
"That it has."


End file.
